


This is Reality

by fairytaleslayer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lexa kind of just needs a little bit of a hug after everything, Nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6089212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytaleslayer/pseuds/fairytaleslayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Interrupting a brief moment of rest for Lexa and Clarke, Titus comes bearing a gift from the new Ice King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Reality

**Author's Note:**

> I know we've already figured out who's coming out of that big ol' crate Titus brings in, but this was one of my first thoughts for a possibility of the scene, and I really just wanted to write it out. It's been forever since I've written something not Fight Me or Princess of the Sky, so this was a nice little break. Enjoy!

The return to Polis was accomplished in near total silence. Lexa thought that Clarke might still be in shock from that Bellamy boy’s betrayal and the death he had wrought, or she was worried about her mother and her friends now trapped in Arkadia. Either way, Lexa allowed the blonde the time to think and process what had happened in that field two days ago.

She was still working through it, herself. When they finally reached her tower, she nodded for one of her more open-minded guards to escort Clarke to her room. She was frightened that others might seek retribution for the destruction Clarke’s people had caused, but she trusted Dorn. He would not harm Clarke.

“Wait,” Clarke protested when he tried to lead her down a separate hall. “Can I come with you?”

Lexa looked at her, awaiting a reason for Clarke reluctance. She could tell Clarke was searching for one.

“I – I think we need to discuss – some things,” Clarke elaborated. Not very well.

Lexa saw it for the excuse that it was, but nodded her consent anyways. “Much has changed,” she acknowledged. “It would be wise to be on common ground as we move forward.”

Clarke sighed, obviously relieved, and followed Lexa to her room, instead. Once they were alone, Clarke collapsed into one of the more comfortable couches Lexa had on offer. “Thank you for agreeing,” she said sincerely.

“Was there something in particular you wished to discuss, Clarke?” Lexa asked, perfectly willing to let her stay but wanting Clarke to admit that she wasn’t here for business.

Embarrassment colored Clarke’s cheeks. “No, I – I just didn’t want to be alone,” she revealed. “Bellamy – he said things. And he was right. I mean, look what I’ve done.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Lexa went to sit beside the younger woman. “What did Bellamy tell you, Clarke?” she asked softly.

“He said it was good. That I wasn’t in charge anymore. That people die when I’m in charge. And then he pretended like he cared before he handcuffed me to a table.” Her eyes were glossy, but Clarke had long since learned not to let her tears fall. Lexa was sure it was her doing, and her heart ached at another sign of just how her trying to teach Clarke some of the lessons she’d been taught had backfired.

“Bellamy was wrong,” she denied adamantly. “You saved your people so many times. I sent three hundred warriors against fifty children and you kept them _all_ alive. Mount Weather kidnapped them and only one perished. You have done nothing but keep your people alive, no matter the obstacle.”

“But the people in Ton DC, Mount Weather, two days ago,” Clarke reminded her. “I saved no one then.”

Lexa shook her head, wanting to offer Clarke some kind of physical comfort, but still not knowing how she would be received. Clarke continued to put distance between them whenever they began to get close once more, and Lexa couldn’t blame her, but it hurt all the same. She could only use her words. “Mount Weather launched the missile that killed the people of Ton DC. Bellamy and that – _Pike_ – are responsible for the deaths of my people in that field,” she growled. “None of that is on you.”

“I killed the people in Mount Weather.”

“Because I accepted that deal. I would take that burden from you,” Lexa offered. “I forced you to leave Ton DC. I sent the army two days ago. I will take the weight if it will ease you.”

Clarke shook her head, managing to give Lexa a weak smile. “You never forced me to do anything,” she denied. “I knew leaving Ton DC was our only option. _I_ pulled the lever. And Bellamy is to blame for your army. If it’s not my fault, it’s not yours either.”

Lexa tilted her head, wondering if Clarke could possibly be saying what she hoped she was.

“I understand, Lexa.”

Lexa nodded, not trusting herself to say anything else. She’d never dared to wish that Clarke would say those words to her. That she no longer blamed her for the mountain. They sat beside each other for a while, silent and comfortable just being near each other. At least, Lexa was. She hoped Clarke drew comfort from her presence now.

It wasn’t until Lexa began to nod off that Clarke moved. Lexa immediately tried to follow her off the couch, but Clarke put her hand out, stopping her in her tracks. “No, you rest,” she insisted. “We may not have another quiet moment for months if this ends in war. You should sleep while you can. I’ll entertain myself.”

Lexa obeyed, settling back into the couch with a sigh, bringing her feet up as well. “There is charcoal and parchment in that box,” she murmured tiredly, pointing out the correct container. Clarke went over and gasped when she lifted the lid and saw the array of supplies Lexa had gathered. “You told me once that you used to enjoy art. I had thought perhaps that you would like to start again. My merchants assured me that they are all of the highest quality.”

“Lexa,” Clarke breathed. “When did you do this?”

“After the mountain,” Lexa dismissed.

Clarke shook her head. “You couldn’t have known that I even survived until weeks later. Why would you do so much when there was a possibility I’d never willingly speak to you again?” She sounded awed.

Lexa swallowed hard. “Perhaps to give myself hope,” she ventured. “That maybe we would indeed meet again, and you would not always hate me.”

She could see Clarke swallow hard, fighting back her emotions. Yet another lesson Lexa had taught her. “Thank you,” was her only whispered response. The blonde selected a few charcoal pencils and some paper, then settled on a chair across from Lexa and began sketching. Lexa was content to watch Clarke draw, and slowly felt her eyes begin to droop shut.

* * *

Lexa’s eyes opened some time later. Clarke was still drawing intently, and Lexa smiled to see her happily focused on something other than war and death, for once. She closed her eyes again, no longer sleepy but not willing to be awake, either. Every few moments, the scratch of charcoal against paper would stop for a short period of time before starting back up again. Lexa thought Clarke may have been drawing her, but she didn’t want to wake up enough to open her eyes again and confirm it.

Their peaceful quiet was disturbed as Lexa’s door was thrown open and several of her guards came in, laden down by a large crate and Titus leading them.

“What is the meaning of this, Titus?” Lexa demanded, quickly getting to her feet. Clarke stood as well, scrambling to hide her work under her other papers. Lexa thought she caught a glimpse of her own face before the sheet was hidden from view.

Titus looked grim – the guards not much better. “Heda, King Roan sends a gift,” Titus informed her.

Lexa grit her teeth. She’d thought the Azgeda would be the least of her worries for the foreseeable future. “And what does the king have for us?”

Titus actually hesitated, an unusual occurrence for him. “Heda –”

“Show us, Titus,” Lexa ordered. Her fleimkampa nodded to the guards, who pulled the pins that allowed the box to fall open.

A body tumbled to the floor, bloody and torn. But Lexa would recognize those blue eyes anywhere, even when they were wide and unseeing in death. She jerked back in shock, her eyes shooting to where Clarke should still have been standing next to her, but she was no longer there. She looked back down at the body on the floor.

Clarke’s blonde hair was soaked red in her blood. Lexa couldn’t stand to survey the damage done to the other girl’s body.

It was Costia all over again.

The body was naked. Two fingers were missing from one hand, one from the other. Skin had quite literally been gouged from the stomach and arms, cuts and burns covered the remainder. It was eerily similar to what Lexa had seen once before – and she handled it no better this time.

Titus reached out and grabbed her arm when she began to hyperventilate. Lexa tore herself away, her eyes fixed on her second lost love.

* * *

Lexa’s eyes jolted open to find Clarke’s hand on her arm, worried face right in front of her own. “Lexa, are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“Clarke,” Lexa gasped. “You’re alright?”

Clarke nodded, confused. “Yeah, I’m fine. You were having a nightmare.”

Lexa looked around wildly, still breathing hard. Her guards and Titus were nowhere to be seen. No crate was in her bedroom. Lexa took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I apologize. Usually I can control myself better,” she said stiffly. “I assure you, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” Clarke stated bluntly. Startled, Lexa stared at her incredulously. “You were practically whimpering in your sleep, Lexa. And you said my name. If you talk about it you might feel better, so what happened?”

Lexa clenched her jaw and glared at the floor for a moment, wanting to remain silent. But she could never refuse Clarke. “I – received a _gift_ – from Roan. He decided to continue his mother’s tradition, despite my mercy,” she snarled.

“What was the gift, Lexa?” Clarke asked quietly.

Lexa kept her mouth shut this time, unwilling to reveal her deepest nightmare. It wasn’t the first time she’d had this dream in the last three months – and she doubted it would be the last.

“Lexa, what was the gift?” Clarke insisted.

“Your body,” Lexa finally whispered. “Dumped without ceremony or respect and delivered in a crate.”

Clarke merely nodded, like she’d been expecting that answer. “I’m not in a box, Lexa. Nia’s dead. Roan will hold to his end of the treaty. This is reality, and I’m safe. I’m safe here in Polis with you.” She seemed to get an idea. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” Lexa managed to croak.

“Then lean forward.”

Confused, Lexa obeyed. Clarke clambered onto the couch behind Lexa, scooting so the older girl could lean back against her comfortably, her head resting against Clarke’s shoulder. The blonde gently tugged Lexa into her so her nose was pressed against Clarke’s neck. “Clarke,” Lexa tried to protest.

“It’s not weakness to not always be strong, Lexa,” Clarke informed her. “Sometimes, you can let other people help, and admitting you need others is an entirely different kind of strength. So let me be strong, for once.” One arm curled around Lexa’s back and the other cradled her thigh.

Lexa heaved out a sigh, accidentally breathing in Clarke’s scent at the same time. It had been a long time since she had been touched so innocently, yet intimately. Since anyone had thought to remember that their mighty Heda was still really just a girl. That she wasn’t stone. And Clarke, despite the distance between them, had closed it in an instant with no thought at all except for the girl. Clarke was allowing her to let Heda go, and just be Lexa. With that, Lexa finally relaxed, permitting herself a brief moment to be held.

“Ai hod yu in,” she muttered into Clarke’s skin.

Clarke stiffened momentarily before settling once again. Lexa had frozen in place, terrified that Clarke had actually understood what she just said. “Whatever happens, no matter how either of us may come to regret it, even though I tried to forget that I did,” Clarke whispered, rubbing Lexa’s back soothingly until she melted into Clarke’s body, “ai hod yu in seinteim.”

**Author's Note:**

> If my test grade suffers on Friday, I'm blaming this show for making me write.


End file.
